Ticked Off
by fififolle
Summary: Kavanagh has a passion. He thinks going to the Pegasus galaxy would be a good idea. Maybe he was wrong.


**Disclaimers**: I do not own much of this; this is written for fun, I make no money etc.  
**Spoilers: Rising, 38 Minutes  
**

**A/N:** Kavanagh fic. This was written for the "The Real Reason (name of character) Came To Atlantis" Challenge, issued by sgatlantislight on LiveJournal, February 2007. A 'tick' is like a 'check' on a list in the US, I think. The title is supposed to be a bit of a pun… shrug LOL. It's really just the result of some random thoughts I had, and seems a shame for poor old Kav, but there we go. First posted at LJ, May 2007.

**o0o0o0o **

The heavy-set young man in an untidy, black raincoat pushed in through the front door of the house, and bumbled his way into the kitchen. He spotted the man lounging at the table, and quizzed him. "What the hell are you doing, man?"

The slim man, leaning back in his kitchen chair, was unperturbed. He was dressed very neatly in a pale blue shirt and immaculate chinos, and his dark hair was pulled back carefully into a ponytail. He watched his 'guest' carefully. The new arrival had proceeded to open cupboards, and was gathering cookies and soda into his scruffy rucksack, while glancing over, waiting for his answer.

The slim man drawled lazily, "I'm having my breakfast, Matt. What do you think I'm doing? And what the hell are you doing in my kitchen at seven a.m. on a Sunday morning?"

Open-mouthed, Matt turned and looked at him, incredulously. "You've got your pager on, right? You _do_ know why I'm here?"

Will Kavanagh frowned. "Sure, I…" He stopped talking. His eyes widened. "Oh, _shit_." In a single, frantic movement, Will jerked up from the table and disappeared out of the kitchen, his short, neat ponytail swinging wildly.

Matt shook his head, and fastened his rucksack. He called into the house, "You can thank me later, man." He tossed the bag over his shoulder and pulled the strands of mousy-brown shoulder-length hair away from the strap. He stood waiting, his face smug.

A few seconds later, Will returned to the kitchen, his face shocked. He kept looking down at the pager in his hand, as the telephone number scrolled merrily, then back up at Matt. "I can't believe I missed that. I left it in the car… What is it, a petrel of some sort?"

Matt grinned smugly. "Come on, I'll tell you on the way." He pushed past his taller friend, and headed out.

Will followed, dragging his Gore-Tex jacket on, and hurrying down the steps towards the dirty red pick-up. "A goose?"

"Nope." Matt shook his head, and walked quickly around the back of the vehicle.

"Come on, Matt. I'm dying here. Tell me or I won't lend you my new Sigma lens." They hurriedly threw open the doors of the vehicle and jumped in.

Matt tossed his bag into Will's lap. "Tree pipit. Palmer Lake." He grinned again, his wide toothy smile infectious. "Like I said, thank me later, man."

Will whistled, impressed, and leaned his arm on the window frame as they pulled away from the front of his house. "Wow. I sure hope it's still there. If Moby has scared it away I'm gonna kill him."

Matt chuckled, and looked over at Will. "Is anyone faster than us, man?"

Will shook his head, and laughed.

**o0o0o0o**

The two men walked quickly but quietly along the path by the lake. There was a warm breeze from the east, and a few white clouds scudded lazily across the blue sky.

Will talked quietly and earnestly. "Phil sent out the alert, I presume. Do you know who else is up here? Apart from Moby – only we hope not?"

Matt grunted. "Phil never said when I called him. He's usually on his own. Jez and T.C. usually make it down pretty quick, though."

Will nodded, and reached into his bag for his camera. "Damn, I hope it's still there. When did you last see a pipit here?"

Matt shrugged, "Three years ago, maybe…? Hey! There's Phil!"

The two walked a little quicker as they saw the short, sandy-haired man approach them from the treeline. He looked nothing short of ecstatic.

"Hey, guys!" Phil stopped and beckoned them. "Hope you've got your f5.6, Will!" He turned and headed back into the woods. "It's a real beauty!"

Will and Matt looked at each other and grinned, then hurried after Phil. Soon the three of them were huddled in the bird hide at the far end of the lake, taking photos of the tree pipit.

"This is fantastic," whispered Will, snapping repeatedly with his dark and imposing camera and carefully selected lens. It's sleek, black length oozed sophistication and screamed dollars.

"It's definitely tree, not meadow - look at that beak," Phil muttered, without moving his gaze from the unassuming little speckled bird.

His companions murmured in agreement as they, too, looked carefully, took pictures and made notes, recording the rare bird.

"Looks like we'll be the only ones to see it." Phil sighed, "I was beginning to think I was on my own, until I saw you guys driving in."

Will exchanged an amused look with Matt. "I wouldn't have made it if Matt hadn't picked me up. I guess a few other people didn't have their pagers on."

"Shame," whispered Matt. "That little fella is a beauty. Oh…!" He froze as he saw the bird taking to the wing. "He's in flight! Check it out!"

They watched the tree pipit flutter rapidly up, then glide off as it headed away from the lake with determination. All three men groaned as they watched it disappear into the distance. They turned around, slumping on the wooden benches of the hide.

Phil shook his head, "No way of guessing where it's going. I'm happy enough to let it go, what about you guys?"

Will adjusted his glasses carefully. "I'm happy. What do you say to a celebration breakfast over at Rosie's Diner?"

**o0o0o0o**

"Good weekend, Will?" The petite brunette continued to type with focus on her laptop, then hopped off her stool and fiddled with a strange looking piece of equipment.

Will, standing next to her, finished placing the tiny microchip onto the insanely delicate board in front of him. The he looked up to answer the woman. "I bagged a great bird at the weekend."

She stared at him in horror for a moment, then saw his grin and laughed along with him. "Oh! You mean one of your rare birds?"

He nodded. "A tree pipit. It was incredibly beautiful, Emmy. You don't see them often this side of the Atlantic." He leaned down and slotted the board into the piece of equipment. "Try it now," he said quietly, "and let's see if we can get that Major to shut up for once."

After working quietly for a minute, as the two of them were intent on their laptops, Emmy asked, "Will, are you going to go?"

He stopped tapping on the keyboard, the moment frozen in time.

"Are you, Emmy?" he countered, breaking the silence.

She looked down. After a second, she shook her head. "Antarctica was amazing," she whispered, "I want to go, in a way, but I just can't. I don't want to die in another galaxy, or trying to get there." She blinked.

He smirked a little, nodding, "Yeah, I see, you'd rather die in this one." He leaned over and touched her arm gently. "I understand, really I do, but when you've seen what we've seen, in Antarctica, how can I not go? I'm going to take my chances. I mean, the Pegasus galaxy? Can you imagine? And there's nothing keeping me here," he gestured openly, "I've no family left now, not since mom died, and there's no one special in my life," he raised a placating hand as she opened her mouth to protest, "other than you, naturally, the smartest engineer I've ever had the pleasure of working with."

She acknowledged him, smiling. "Good for you, Will. I know they'll appreciate your talents, they really will. And anyway, how in any galaxy could I limit myself to one personal item? I'd need at least seven pairs of shoes for a start."

He groaned, as she laughed. "What will you take, Will?"

His face lit up. "My camera. What else? Think about it, Emmy! 'The Illustrated Guide to the Birds of the Pegasus Galaxy, by William Kavanagh'. What do you think?"

"Bring me back a signed copy," she laughed.

"Sure," he said, "Now come on, let's get this dumb thing working so we can keep the Major out of our hair, and we can get some lunch."

**o0o0o0o**

The first three weeks they were there, Will never saw a single bird. He asked every team member who had been through the gate or out of the city, and nobody could remember seeing a single avian specimen. And nobody had seen one from Atlantis, that's for sure.

Will was beginning to feel a little twitchy, and wondered if that was where the word 'twitcher' came from. What if there were no birds in this damned galaxy? He couldn't really blame them. With Wraith around, the best bet might be to fly off and hide.

Sergeant Stackhouse had promised him – _promised him_ – that he would pay special attention to the sky when he was off world that day. He knew perfectly well that the Sergeant would do no such thing, or he would probably be neglectful of his duties, but he didn't care. A couple of glances would be more than enough, with any luck. One of these planets had to have birds. They just had to.

When he heard that the jumper was stuck, he was as ticked off as it was possible to be. Great. Stackhouse and Markham were in de-materialised limbo, and there was a distinct possibility that he may never discover whether they saw any birds. He could hardly ask McKay, could he? 'Excuse me, Doctor, I know you only have 33 minutes to live, but I don't suppose you could tell me if you saw any birds on that planet?' That would go over real well.

Grodin and Simpson pored over the schematics as he visualised the jumper in his mind. Zelenka was already working on the jumper in the bay, trying to find the correct circuit to retract the drive pod. Will concentrated on imagining scenarios in his head. He scribbled on the pad in front of him.

'Jumper malfunction' he had written in very neat script, with little arrows leading to various scenes he had played in his mind's eye. He was beginning to feel very nervous about the drive manifold and the potential for a power feedback. He'd seen Zelenka take a look at the one in Jumper Two last week, and he could think of no reason why there wasn't a distinct possibility that a drive pod malfunction could merely be the unfortunate pre-cursor to a complete drive explosion. When Ancient technology went wrong, it might really go wrong.

"Simpson…" he said quietly, "I think we need to consider the possibility that we might need to raise the gate shield."

Grodin frowned, as Simpson responded with horror. "We might need to _what_?"

Grodin screwed up his face a little. "Drive overload?"

Will nodded, "We should protect the city."

Grodin blinked, "What if Rodney finds the right control conduit?"

Will shrugged, "We can lower the shield, he just has to warn us."

Simpson threw up her hands, "I can't believe this. We're supposed to be trying to save them! If you activate the field, they die!"

Will was disappointed in her histrionics, but tried to press home his simple point that really hadn't needed twenty-five seconds of discussion. "Hey, we can always open it again and if they fix the problem…"

Simpson just kept pushing it. "But they may not have time."

He was really ticked off now. "If they don't, we could destroy this facility!"

She wouldn't even consider it, would she? "Well, I don't…"

They didn't really notice Dr Weir come in. "You're supposed to be working on solutions."

**o0o0o0o**

**  
**Will stabbed angrily at his food. He felt annoyed with himself for letting Weir get to him. It had wasted minutes that might have been needed. It was hardly Stackhouse's fault that Weir seemed to have forgotten any management skills she was supposed to know.

Coming to this galaxy had been a waste of his time. Weir was no different to any military commander he'd been under - none of them understood enough about what he did to take him seriously. He covered everything, all contingencies, any scenario. There wasn't anything Will Kavanagh couldn't anticipate.

Except the fact there were no birds in the Pegasus Galaxy. How could anyone predict that? How could _he_ not have?

Except Lieutenant Ford had pulled that rear hatch lever and blown them through.

As he watched Stackhouse give him an apologetic shrug from the other mess hall table, he wondered if maybe it hadn't been a _complete_ waste of his time. Not yet, anyway. Plenty more planets to check out. And besides, the camera had already come in handy.  
_**  
FIN**_


End file.
